My Grief Lies All Within
by MarshMella
Summary: Hawke x Sebastian - After failing to save another member of the family, Hawke's companions begin to worry about her lack of grief. Burying it deep to continue her journey, it surfaces at an unexpectedly opportune moment for the archer to provide comfort.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Dragon Age 2**

**Author's note: This is a two-part, Sebastian x FemHawke fic. Fluff with a touch of angst! I may write more fics with this pairing, though I'm not sure if its very popular. I'd also be happy to write other pairings if need be!**

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><p><strong>MY GRIEF LIES ALL WITHIN<strong>

**Part 1**

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><p>Sebastian wasn't sure why he had agreed to be involved in this. Actually, no, that was a lie. He knew exactly why. Aveline was a scary woman and saying no to her was like saying no to a High Dragon: it just wasn't going to happen. Besides that, he had to admit that he agreed with her on this occassion.<p>

Something needed to be done.

Hawke was his friend and when a friend was in need, it was only right that you do all within your power to help them...even if they didn't necessarily want it.

He winced, feeling a new bout of nervousness wash over him. This could end up going terribly, terribly wrong.

"She'll be here soon." Aveline was saying, looking nervous now that she'd set this whole thing into motion. The Captain had never got on well with Hawke; the rogue always so keen to make money even if it meant dealing with somewhat distasteful groups. Sebastian was not sure why the redhead even stayed in contact with the woman, let alone felt the need to help her. He knew they had come from Ferelden together, but he'd never heard the story of what had happened. Perhaps he should ask Varric sometime. That dwarf certainly did spend a lot of time studying 'Hawke History'.

Speaking of which, he really wished that the dwarf was here. He was so much better with words, not to mention the fact that he had a relationship that could be considered brotherly to the rogue Ferelden.

"Do you not think Varric might have been a better...candidate for this, Aveline?"

"No. Hawke gets on well with that dwarf, I know." She held up a hand, a sign she meant to continue. "But this situation calls for someone who will tell her plain and simple."

"Us, you mean?" He suppressed a groan. "You do realise that neither of us are exactly in Hawke's 'good book'?"

"The others are too frightened of telling her what's what. Agree with her methods or not, I don't want to see her continue down this path of destruction. This can't go on."

Sebastian 'hmphed' in agreement. "You might be right, but I have a feeling this is not going to end well..."

"Seb? In the Hanged Man? Have I walked into the Fade?" Hawke's jovial voice sent a bolt of fear through him, snapping him to attention immediately. Her bright blue eyes danced across their faces and then settled onto the drinks set before them. With a grin, the woman sat across from them and reached over to lift the decanter. With a small, delicate sniff, she grimaced and shot them both a look of dissaproval. "Please tell me that's not what I think it is." She didn't bother to wait for a response. "You invite me for a drink and then order in sparkling water? What is that? Apple flavoured?" She shook her head, moving to rise - her intention clearly to get in some ale.

Aveline caught her by the wrist and the dark-haired rogue tensed suddenly. Sebastian swore he saw a flash of anger darken the blue in her eyes. So, she was joking and laughing, but she was clearly not as 'okay' as she claimed to be.

It seemed Aveline had been right to worry.

"We didn't come here to get ourselves into a state of drunken stupor, Hawke." Aveline's tone was stern, leaving no room for argument.

"Well even someone with half a brain could figure that out. If I was hoping for a wild night, I'd expect Isabella and Varric here. Not 'Stick-Up-Her-Ass-Captain' and 'Can-Do-No-Wrong-Chantry-Boy'. No offense." She smiled sweetly at them but one look at Aveline told Sebastian that this plan really wasn't going to work.

Realising that she'd possibly gone too far, Hawke seated herself and gave a soft sigh. "Okay, why am I here?"

Sebastian had never really allowed himself much opportunity to look at Hawke. To _really_ look at her. He remembered her when she'd first come to him, declaring that she'd seen to his vengeance. She was bold and witty and oh-so-charming and he'd allowed himself a moment to let his eyes graze her up and down. It had been wrong of him to do so, but at the time he had not considered that they would see much of each other again. Then, when they had joined forces (if that was how it could be described) he'd become painfully aware that she was a fine looking woman. He also became aware that he was not the only man to think so. Anders had become horribly obvious with his attraction to her and he could even have sworn that he saw an appreciative glint in Fenris' eye from time to time. Isabella – how could he forget her? – had certainly not been one to hold back on her flirtation, either.

He'd not understood it at first. Hawke had a nice face, certainly, but she wasn't outstandingly beautiful. She had pale skin, bright blue eyes and short cropped hair; black, savagely cut. Her appearance was certainly suited to someone of her profession. Yet there was something there, a spark that set her apart from other women.

Sebastian had come to realise that it was her personality. It was true that he didn't always agree with her decisions and that some of her 'employers' in the city were people he would have chosen to flag up to the guard. However, no matter what, Hawke was true to her beliefs. She was as loyal and as stubborn as her Mabari, fierce and feisty and always there to make a joke or bring a smile to someone's face. She was also kind. Incredibly kind. But, more recently, her strength of character had shone through; whether for good or bad. She was a woman, after all, who had lost her home and was forced to flee for her life. She was also a woman who had lost her brother, Carver, to an ogre and her sister, Bethany, to the Dark Spawn taint down in the Deep Roads. He had never heard her word any complaint, nor had she neglected any of her duties to her friends and to the city. She had held her head up high and ploughed along, unfazed by anything thrown in her way.

Until recently…

His heart twisted painfully in his chest to think of how much she had lost. For not only had her siblings been taken from her, but her mother, too. Murdered and turned into a twisted, disgusting blood mage's fantasy.

Hawke's refusal to grieve the death of her mother was concerning. So much so that even the less sensitive members of their band had begun to notice and worry for her. She kept up her normal mannerisms; working and joking and chatting as often before, but the laughter and smiles never reached her eyes and there was a darkness there that was growing all the deeper. Hawke might be fighting it, but sooner or later she was going to reach breaking point.

It wasn't a case of 'if'. It was a case of 'when'. But whenever anyone had tried to talk about it, she just laughed it off as nothing. He had been there when Aveline had first offered her condolences. He remembered Hawke's reply:

'_I have a smile on my face, isn't that enough?'_

Aveline had been angered at what she thought was an inhuman response, but Sebastian could see what the Captain had not. That Hawke was not joking through lack of care. She was joking because she couldn't deal with the grief of so much loss. She was struggling desperately to continue on as if nothing had ever happened.

And, though it made him somewhat uncomfortable to admit it, he was deeply concerned for Hawke. But only because she was a friend. Just a _friend_.

"I know you don't want to hear this, Hawke, but something needs to be said." The Captain eased into the topic as tactfully as she could. Which was to say...not at all.

"If you're talking about you and Donnic and your newfound inspiration in the bedroom department, than no, I really don't."

Sebastian, knowing now that this blasé attitude was just a way to wriggle out of this conversation, wished suddenly that Aveline wasn't there and that she'd tasked him with this alone. The woman was serious and fiery and Hawke's joking had never sat well with her.

"We're here to talk about _you_, Hawke." Aveline's frustration blazed.

"Me? Surely you have more interesting things to talk about. Or…maybe not." She shook her head. "Not many women find a man to dote on them, Aveline. How you managed to find two in your lifetime is beyond me."

"What is it with you and my love life? You're getting as bad as Isabella."

"Can you blame a girl for being curious?"

"Stop changing the subject!"

Sensing the conversation was about to go rapidly downhill, Sebastian interrupted. "We're worried about you, Hawke." Might as well be honest.

"Worried? Why? Have I given you reason to be?"

"You've not spoken much about your mother since…what happened." He paused, unsure how to go on. He wished, now, that he'd rehearsed his part.

Hawke dismissed it. "Because there's no need. I'm fine. Now, I don't know about you two, but I need a drink." This time she stood and made for the bar. Sebastian wondered whether she might use the opportunity to make a quick escape.

"Well this is going well." Aveline sighed, steepling her fingers against her forehead.

"I don't think this is the right way to go about things."

"Oh, really? Well what do you suggest?" Aveline looked suddenly angry and Sebastian had the sudden desire to sink down in his chair and disappear.

"I think she needs to be left to deal with this her own way. Us forcing the issue is not going to make things any easier."

"So wait until she snaps?"

"I don't think we have any other option."

"Well fine, but I'm trusting you to keep an eye on her when I'm not around. Have I made myself clear?" The Captain stood. "I'm heading back to the Keep."

"Wait, what? You're going?"

Aveline fixed him with a glare, then, turned and departed.

Sebastian hung his head in his hands, rubbing them down across his face. Great. Just wonderful. Now he'd have to put up with Hawke's badly placed humour all alone…or…not. The spot she had been standing in was now vacant and the dark-haired rogue was nowhere in sight. He groaned at the realisation of his failure and, realising how bad it would look for him to be seen here in the Hanged Man alone, stood and left.

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><p>"Did I…miss something?" Merrill asked in a not-so-quiet voice.<p>

"Well if you did, Daisy, I missed it too." Varric hefted the sturdy, smooth weight of his beloved Bianca over a shoulder and sent a glare across at Isabella who reached out to run her fingers playfully along the trigger. "I've told you before, Rivaini. Bianca is a one-man kind of lady."

"Why does no one like to share anymore?" She smirked. "How about a trade? I tell you what's going on with Hawke and you let me borrow Bianca for a while, hmm? You can even come, too." She winked, massaging her fingers into Varric's shoulder.

"You know what's going on with Hawke?" Merrill asked, surprised.

"Of course I do, kitten." Isabella fixed the dwarf with a meaningful look. "So, what do you say, Varric?"

"I say it's a cheap trade. I could go and ask Hawke myself and she'd tell me."

"Suit yourself." The pirate stepped back into line, knocking into Sebastian as he tried to pass. He muttered an apology and the flirtatious woman groped at him as he passed. "There. Want to know what's wrong with Hawke? He just walked by." She giggled.

"What? Choir Boy?"

"See you later." Isabella teased.

"Not staying, Rivaini?"

"Not this time, see you at the Hanged Man later." She moved off, hips swaying. "Have fun."

With an amused shake of his head, the dwarf scurried off after the white-clad archer, slowing his pace the moment he caught up. "Am I right in saying that you're the reason Hawke is in such a bad mood this morning?"

"She told you?" Sebastian stiffened.

"I take it that's a yes, then."

"You had a fight?" Merrill asked, drawing up on Sebastian's other side. "That doesn't sound like you."

"It wasn't my intention to anger the Lady Hawke." The archer insisted. "She thinks I'm trying to instil in her the importance of faith in the Maker."

"I bet that went down well." Varric chuckled.

"No…it didn't. She told me to…"

"…_Mind your own business, Sebastian. I know who put you up to this. It was Aveline wasn't it? What has she got to gain by sticking her nose into my business? Now look, I've tried to be nice, I've given her the opportunity to back down by changing the subject and cracking jokes but this…this has to stop." She threw up her hands in exasperation. "It isn't helping."_

"_She's worried about you, Hawke. We all are."_

"_For the last time; you don't need to be. I'm fine! Everyone dies, Sebastian, that's a part of life. I've already lost my father, brother and sister, what's one more family member to me?" _

_To his horror, tears started gathering in her eyes, though she managed to hold them at bay. _

"_I don't need you or Aveline watching out for me, waiting for me to fall just so you get to say; I told you so."_

"_We're your friends—"_

"_—_ _So act like one and leave me alone."_

"_There is a plan for all of us, Hawke. The Maker's will is not always easy to understand. I'll be the first to admit that. But—"_

She had struck him; a sharp fist to the jaw, cutting off the sentence that was supposed to have offered comfort. Unconsciously he rubbed the spot she had struck, snapped back to reality by Varric's sharp bark of laughter.

"I know you and Aveline mean well. And heck, maybe you're right, but right or not, Hawke has got to work this out for herself. I've known her a long time and I've never seen her cry. You weren't there when it happened, Choir Boy, it was horrible. Real horrible. If I was her, I'd have broken down and wept like a baby. But she didn't. She was just quiet. Very quiet. Sometimes you just have to work through things yourself. We'll be here waiting for when she's ready."

"Poor Hawke…" Merrill echoed softly.

The door to Hawke's estate swung open and the woman stepped out into the street. Her tight fitting armour hugged at her curves, so many buckles that it was a wonder it didn't take her hours to get into the thing each day. Her short black hair looked much like the ruffled wings of a raven, framing her finely featured face. She grinned at them - clearly in a better mood now - though the grin faltered at noticing Sebastian.

"Where's Isabella?" She asked. What she had meant to say was painfully clear to them all; _why is Sebastian here?_

"Busy, apparently." Varric replied. "Ready to go, Hawke?"

"I suppose we'll have to make do."

"Are we still going to Sundermount?" Merrill asked uncertainly.

"Yes. I know it makes you feel uncomfortable, Merrill, but it's important to show your face every now and again, don't you think? And, since you won't go alone, I need to find excuses to go. Luckily I have a good one, today."

"Oh?"

Hawke threw the Dalish mage a grin. "I'm hoping to…acquire some items from them."

"Why do I get the feeling that when you say 'acquire' you really mean 'steal'?" Varric laughed, turning to head out of Hightown.

"You know me too well." Hawke replied, pausing to eye an extremely quiet Sebastian. "Here's your chance to back out."

"Don't mind me."

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><p>"Quickly, Hawke."<p>

"Almost there." The rogue was knelt down beside one of the many locked chests in the small Dalish camp, three lockpicks held firmly in her teeth, another in her hands as she teased at the lock. It was intricate work but certainly satisfying. There was a sharp click as the mechanism came undone and, with a hushed cry of triumph, the woman eased the lid open and peered inside.

"This is it, Merrill!" She called out, snatching a bottle of the prized ink and pocketing it before anyone could notice. Then, swiftly, she moved back into the open, seeing to the padding of her armour and giving a subtle wave to Varric and Sebastian – who had been tasked with causing a distraction.

"So, what's next on your list?" Varric asked.

"There's more?" Sebastian's disapproval could not be contained.

"No one's stopping you from leaving if you feel uncomfortable with this." Hawke pointed out, turning to Varric and Merrill. "We need to speak to Keeper Marethari."

Merrill looked uncomfortable.

"You can wait here, if you like."

They agreed to do so and Hawke felt their eyes on her as she strode over to where the Keeper sat, cross-legged in the shade. One pair of eyes, in particular, seemed to be burning holes in her back and the thought of the look the archer must be giving her saddened her. Why was the death of her mother causing rifts between friends? Yes, so she did things differently from Aveline and Sebastian but…but she'd known Aveline for a long time and Sebastian…well, he was…nice. Really nice. She just wished they'd stop dredging up feelings of grief in her. Feelings that she didn't feel ready to face.

"Keeper Marethari." The rogue greeted, kneeling to join her.

"Ah, Clare Hawke. I see you brought Merrill with you today."

"I thought it might do her good to be back with her people for a while but I may have been mistaken."

"She is a good girl but innocent. I was hoping time away from here might…well, no matter. What can I do for you this fine day, Hawke?"

"I'm after a Varterral's heart." Straight to the point as always.

The Keeper's eyes widened a little. "And you think one may be living up here?"

"I had hoped. Or, at the very least, that you could tell me of them. They're linked to elven history, are they not?"

The Keeper leaned forwards, elbows resting against her knees. "Created in the time now lost to us. Yes. There is a cave not far from here. Several of our hunters travelled there some days ago. They have yet to return. It is possible that the creature you seek lies within. A small chance, but one worth investigating, perhaps? I would also be very grateful if you would consider going to that cave to seek our missing hunters on the off chance that any still…live."

"Sounds like I'm more likely to find a survivor than I am the Varterral."

"You would be rewarded for your efforts."

Hawke's eyes lit with interest. She was a magpie when it came to glittering treasures and coins. "I'll see what I can do."

Calling the others to join her, she gave them the summarised version. Merrill seemed eager to be involved, keen to find these missing hunters – perhaps in an attempt at winning some of her old clan over. It was the first time that Hawke realised just how lonely the young Dalish elf must have been, pinning her hopes on something so small as this.

"You know this cave, Merrill?"

"I think so."

"Mind leading the way?"

"Me? Oh, yes, certainly!"

Rolling her eyes, Hawke waited for the elf to start, moving to follow a couple of paces behind her. Together, in single file, they tracked up the steady incline, moving at a swift but not uncomfortable pace. Merrill's bare-footed trot seemed strangely energetic as she moved along the grass, pausing every now and then to check they were still following. Then, when the gaping mouth of the cavern loomed to welcome them, the elf dropped back to walk alongside Clare Hawke.

"There it is."

"Ugh, are there spiders? I think there're spiders." Varric growled. "Give me the creeps."

Hawke laughed good-naturedly. "Kill them quickly and they won't get near."

"Yes, ma'am." The dwarf loaded a bolt into his crossbow and flexed his shoulders, taking steady aim. Beside him the bow string of the archer creaked under tension and in the next moment bolt and arrow drove through the air and deep into the swollen abdomen of the first of six giant spiders. Merrill's earth-based spells came next, dragging rock up from the ground to encase legs and momentarily block their way.

With a whoop of exhilaration, Hawke dashed ahead, swift on her feet. Only when she was within a few metres of the arachnids did she leap into the air, bringing her duel daggers down like fangs, sinking deep into flesh. Blood spewed from the gaping wounds, splattering her face and armour as she swept into a dizzying dance of death, wielding her blades as if they were mere extensions of her own body. Around her the whirring whine of arrows and bolts found their marks and the electric stutter of magic spells sent the air crackling with life. And, in that moment, every strike she made healed her soul; little by little. All her grief and pain and anger armed the point of each dagger and the screams of the giant spiders sent a thrill down her spine.

In battle she was free.

And so it continued, down into the gaping maw of the cave and into the long, winding tunnels lit with torches to guide them. Many had burned out, but luckily, time had worn the earth above their heads. In many places the ceiling had crumbled in, allowing great pillars of light to stretch into the chambers beneath.

Covered in stinking filth, but stupidly content, Hawke almost ran straight into a young elf coming the other way. She fanned a dagger out, slashing at the air and only just managed to keep the blade from making contact with his throat. The elf fell backwards, crawling away in fear.

"Woah, easy there. You're one of the missing hunters?" Hawke asked, sheathing her blades and holding a hand out for him to take. After coming across the corpses previously. she hadn't expected to find anyone still alive. "Almost mistook you for a spider." The teasing tone in her voice died.

The lad – who looked to be no more than nineteen – fixed his eyes somewhere behind her shoulder and she froze in horror, wondering what could possibly be sneaking up on her to bring that reaction in him. She whipped her head around and started. Only Merrill, Sebastian and Varric were there, and behind them…nothing.

"Pol!" Merrill pushed forwards. "Pol! Are you okay?"

"No. No! Stay back! Keep away from me!" He was gathering his feet under him now, his face a picture of terror.

"Wait!" Merrill took a step forward, extending a hand. "Please, Pol, it's dangerous!"

But the young hunter was paying no attention, getting his feet underneath him and taking off down the corridor.

"He…did you see the way he looked at me?" Merrill sounded distraught, her wide eyes seeking comfort, her hands shaking. Hawke could offer her none.

Sebastian seemed ready to give the Dalish elf a lecture on the choices she had made, but seemed to think better of it.

It was Varric who came to the rescue. "Don't worry, Daisy. We'll go after him."

Hawke nodded. "Let's go."

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><p>To be continued...<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Don't own Dragon Age_ (I just obsess over it)_**

**Author's note: Thanks to readers / reviewers / subscribers! Hope you enjoy part 2! I'm planning to write more Sebby x FemHawke fics, so keep an eye out for them in the not too distant future!**

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><p><strong>MY GRIEF LIES ALL WITHIN<strong>

**Part 2**

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><p>They arrived too late to save him. By the time they clamoured into the chamber, the huge beast had the elven hunter pinned and a moment later, had taken his life. Merrill's cry of anguish was certainly more than enough to draw the Varterral's attention, the beast turning on them with surprising swiftness. It was distinctly spider-like, moving agilely on four huge legs, two small forearms tucked up against its chest. It was a creature of stone and fire, its underside like the flow of lava, each leg cast with a similarly fiery membrane. It swung its head towards them, opening huge jaws that sported sharpened fangs and bellowed.<p>

Hawke was suddenly painfully aware that she was the only close-combatant in the current team. Cursing Isabella, she stepped bravely towards it.

"I'll draw its attention. The rest of you, keep your distance!" Hawke shouted, leaping from the stairs and dropping into a slide beneath the creature's legs.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Sebastian called.

She rolled out from the slide, leaping to her feet with cat-like agility; twirling duel daggers in hand. "Unless you want to take up a sword, I don't see any other choice, do you?" She windmilled, arms outstretched, catching both blades across one of the Vaterral's stony legs. The metal gave a high-pitched chink against the armoured plating but left little evidence of an attempted attack.

At least she'd got its attention.

The huge beast swung its body in one leap, landing so that it loomed above her, its head jutting down in an attempt to snatch her up in its more than capable jaws. The rogue leapt to the side, going for its legs again, but to no avail.

A volley of arrows bounced off of its back, nothing more than rain to the beast that seemed intent now on spearing the swift-footed Hawke to the earth. The breath rasped hotly in her lungs as she avoided a painful death, rolling through the dirt and springing back to her feet. She was given a momentary breather as a fireball roared up, crashing into the side of its head. Easily distracted, the Varterral moved to defend itself against this new attacker.

Merrill, staff held above her head, froze in terror. The arrows did little to veer the creature off of its course and at the last moment the elf cast herself into her stone armour. The legs of the Varterral lanced downwards, splintering the rock plating, but not deep enough to meet flesh. Merrill struggled to free herself as the monster aimed another strike. It was certainly determined and Hawke had no doubt that this determination would pay off in the end.

"Aim for the eyes!" Hawke hissed, flashing a frantic look at both Varric and Sebastian. Both were perched on the overhanging rocks. The white-clad archer nocked an arrow and, with a steady hand, let it fly true. It sailed through the air, hitting the rocky ridge just above its nearside eye. Brow furrowing, he readied another. A bolt from Bianca lodged itself just behind the monster's jaw, though it seemed very little distraction.

Hawke, with a battle cry, dived towards the monstrous Varterral and, with pure determination, lashed upwards with both daggers. To her surprise, the tips of the blades sank through the fiery underside to the flesh beyond. The monster above her thrashed in pain; its legs flailing to knock her aside. It partially succeeded and Hawke was forced to retreat from the erratic spasms of its limbs.

But she did not retreat quickly enough.

A vicious blow from its underdeveloped forearms sent her reeling across the ground, flashing vibrant stars in her eyes. She tasted the bite of metallic blood in her mouth and sagged against the cold, welcoming ground; more than willing to accept the pain-free darkness that came with unconsciousness.

"Hawke! Get up!"

Oh, yes, that's right. Lay still and she'd go from unconscious to dead.

Disorientated, she tried to pick herself up, staggering to regain her bearings. She was aware of the Varterral's lumbering form leaping after her and the lack of a dagger in her hand, raising an arm in a futile attempt to protect herself from the point of its spear-fashioned legs.

"Hawke!" Someone called her name.

"Get out of there! Move!"

"Go for the underside!"

She threw herself aside, nausea wracking her body, and wriggled back away from the beast. The ground reverberated beneath its bulk and suddenly she was pinned against rock, trying to edge her way under the lip of the wall in an attempt to avoid being pierced. Her armour caught on the jagged surface and locked her in place.

And then the Varterral was screaming in agony and rearing back away from her; attention diverted elsewhere.

"Make for the stairs, Choir Boy!"

"Hurry! I'll try to hold it off." Merrill's shrill voice was filled with panic. A fiery explosion added orange to the stars still marring Hawke's vision followed by a wave of cold from an ice spell. In her mind's eye she could see the icy fingers surging out from the ground, sticking up into the monster's belly. Its mortal cry rang out, piercing and deafening, and then the sound of it collapsing filled the cavern with thunder. Hushed silence followed, broken by the sound of boots on rock.

"Hawke!"

"Hawke!"

She tried to free herself from her half-wedged position, flapping weakly. She hadn't thought the head wound serious (surely it would have hurt more) but now she was thinking otherwise. Her vision refused to clear and the world continued to spin. Hands grasped at her, tugging sharply. She hissed between her teeth and tried to fend them off.

"Easy. Easy, Merrill. Let me get that." Sebastian's thickly accented voice soothed her and this time the hands on her armour managed to free her, pulling her gently back out into the open. She tried to stand but hands kept her down, pressed to the ground.

"Should have brought a healer." Merrill was panicking. "Why didn't Anders come? I'm sorry, Hawke, so sorry. This was all my fault! If I hadn't…"

"Step back a moment, Daisy. Give her some air."

Hawke felt herself begin to grow angry and panicky. She was not some pathetic damsel in distress. She could take care of herself! Why did she have to be the one to take a bad hit? She struck out at them, felt armour beneath her knuckles, and forced herself to sit up. Nausea claimed her and she wretched. Luckily, skipping breakfast had been a good idea that morning. Her stomach was empty. She grimaced, spitting onto the dusty floor and tried to stand.

"Hawke, I don't think you should—"

"—So what do you suggest? Just lie here till I die?" She wretched again, using the arms of her companions to pull herself to her feet. She blinked rapidly to try and clear her vision, saw the concerned faces of her friends swim before her, and reached up to touch the tender spot on her temple. Her fingers came away slick with blood and suddenly she was aware of the thick, trickling sensation down the side of her face, on her neck and chin, wetness on the collar of the shirt beneath her leather armour. She swayed and strong arms caught her; Sebastian's arms.

"Well, shit." She cursed. "Guess it was worse than I thought."

"Sit down a moment, Hawke and we'll get a dressing on it." Varric ushered her back to the ground and she watched through aching eyes as he rummaged for the things he needed, pressing a wad of padding against her head. The pressure of the bandage momentarily worsened the pain but she bit it back, refusing, point blank, to be carried out of the cave.

"I'll…I'll go ahead and find a healer in the clan." Merrill suggested. "The way back should be clear."

"Wait!" Hawke's fuzzy mind seemed to be trying to remember something. "We…I can't go yet."

"Yes you can." Sebastian sounded uncharacteristically firm and with his hand on the small of her back, he guided her back towards the entrance, Varric moving ten paces ahead to check the way was clear.

* * *

><p>"It was my fault." Merrill wrung her hands. "All of it. I shouldn't have come."<p>

"Daisy, none of this was your fault."

"But it _was_, Varric."

Sebastian looked up at the serious, angry tone in Merrill's voice, concern etched in his features. It was a disturbing tone for a blood mage to hold.

"Listen, why don't you go back to Kirkwall? We can come find you when we get back." Varric continued calmly, seemingly unconcerned about her change in demeanour.

"No. I have to stay. I have to be here when she wakes up."

Keeper Marethari stepped up to meet them, her face tired. "She's resting. She took quite a bad knock to the head, but the most skilled of our healers have tended to her. A good night's rest and she'll be fine. Just keep an eye on her. Any nausea or dizziness, take her straight back to a healer."

Sebastian hung his head. Aveline was going to kill him for letting this happen. So much for taking care of her. If only his arrows had been more effective in distracting the beast. Even when he'd moved close enough to aim three arrows at the beast's belly, they had done nothing more than irritate the monster. If it hadn't been for Merrill's frantic spell casting, the creature might have had him, too.

"Can we see her?" Merrill asked.

"Let her rest, child. You may all stay here and rest, yourselves."

"Keeper…we found these, in the cave." Merrill stood, handing over the amulets they'd found on the bodies.

"You have done a great service. Thank you." The Keeper declared sadly. "And, as promised, your reward."

"That'll cheer our Hawke up." Varric grinned, taking the pouch of silver from Marethari; testing the weight of it in his palm as if he knew, by how heavy it was, how much coin was within.

"Did Hawke also manage to retrieve the Varterral's heart?"

A horrible silence fell over the group, nervous glances shared between friends.

The Keeper gave a faint smile. "That would be a no, then."

"That must have been what she was trying to remember…well, you're going to be in trouble when she wakes up, Choir Boy."

* * *

><p>Sebastian found that he could not sleep.<p>

The last of the sunlight faded from the sky, casting them into shadow that danced and flickered wildly under the touch of the fire. His face, bathed orange, was warm, his hands absently stroking the smooth curve of his bow. Merrill had fallen asleep perhaps half an hour before and Varric long before that. He wondered why the dwarf did not seem all that concerned. Did Varric know something about Hawke that he did not?

He stood, unbuckling his armour with slow, practised hands, setting it neatly down in a pile alongside him. Then, stretching the ache from his body, he sat back down on the ground, leaned back against one of the logs, and rested his eyes.

Hawke found them all sleeping. Varric; lying on his back, his coat rolled into a crude pillow under his head, Bianca set protectively beneath an arm. Merrill; curled in on herself, hands balled under her chin, knees against her chest. Sebastian; still sitting, his head rolled back, the opening of his shirt flapping in the cool wind.

Her head pounded but the healer's had managed to close the wound and ease the bruising. She still felt fuzzy-headed but, the blinding pain was gone, returning her vision to her. Even still, she staggered unsteadily towards the fire; now nothing more than glowing ambers in the pale morning light.

Carefully, she eased herself down next to the sleeping archer, wriggling her bare toes in the cool grass – wet with morning dew – and released a breathy sigh. Turning her head, she took a moment to admire him, casting an appreciative, greedy eye over his relaxed form. The line of his pale throat flickered with a steady pulse, his lips slightly parted. The breath left his lungs with a soft, rhythmic _'whoosh'_, which had her smiling to herself. It was ever so cute.

She just wished that he didn't get on his high horse with her on certain things. Her love of trinkets and gold and… innocent, harmless thievery. Her 'inappropriate' comments, her flirtatiousness. Her dealing with grief…

Her shoulders drooped. It was odd that, despite all of their differences, that she found herself so impossibly drawn to him.

"Why do you put up with me?" She dared to ask of him. "I've been an ass these last few days and I'm sorry. I just…need to deal with things in my own way. You're all worried that I'm not grieving…but I am. Every moment of every day. Not a moment goes by that I don't think of all the people I've lost. I just…I deal with it in my own way. I put on my brave face, give everyone a smile and a joke and get on with it. I don't…I don't _grieve_ in public. It's just not me. So…stop worrying."

She set her head against her knees. "For all our disagreements, I care about you both, you know. You and Aveline. You're my friends, even if we do end up arguing more often than we agree."

She paused, moistening her lips. "I said before that I didn't need you looking out for me. Well…after today it's become painfully obvious that I do. I could have been killed…so…so thank you, I guess. The only reason I can keep going at all is because I have all of you with me, keeping me sane."

She turned back to see his eyes had opened; highlighted white by the moon. She startled, clapping a hand over her mouth before she could further betray herself.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing at the stab of pain in his neck from falling asleep in so awkward a position. Rubbing at the stiff muscles with a hand, he threw her a cautious smile (which was partly a grimace from the pain in his neck and back).

"Shouldn't you be resting?" He asked, as if he hadn't heard a single word she'd said.

She gawped at him in disbelief and then realised, a moment later, that he was deliberately choosing not to bring up what she'd just said. He was clearly aware that she found apologising difficult and this, in a roundabout sort of way, was an apology.

"I'm fine." She replied, her throat thick, making words difficult to form.

"But you're not, are you?" His voice was so soft and so kind that she could not stop the tears from forming in her eyes. She sniffed in an attempt to keep them at bay, but the look of compassion in his face was too much.

"Bottling it all up never helps anything. I'm sorry, for going about things the way I did." Though actually, it was mainly Aveline's fault. "Look, it doesn't have to be me or Aveline, but you need to find someone to confide in."

The first wracking sob rattled free from her throat and with the first came another and another. Afraid of waking Varric and Merrill, she smothered the cries into her hands, trying desperately to regain control of herself. She failed utterly.

Sebastian's fingers circling her wrist was all the encouragement she needed. And, with a strangled cry, she twisted around to face him, pressing her face to his chest, gathering folds of his shirt into her hands and muted her heart-wrenching sobs against him. His arms fell about her shoulders, pulling her close, murmuring soft words of comfort into her hair.

She cried until she had no more tears to give and with the unexpected release came a wave of fatigue. The warmth of him was obscenely comforting and she could have slept there, her head pressed over the beating of his heart, her arms coiling up around him. The inappropriateness of that, however, was not something that even the flirty Hawke could deny. Her want of this man was not something she was particularly proud of, though his vow of celibacy had not saved him from her flirtation in the past.

Reluctantly, she drew away from him, palms flat to his chest as if to keep herself from falling back into his embrace.

"Well, that was...embarrassing." She found it surprisingly easy to fall back into her facetious manner.

"Not at all." Sebastian replied quietly and she noted that his arms were still looped loosely about her, burning tingling bands of warmth across her waist and back.

She narrowed her eyes in mock-threat, "well, if word gets out about 'Hawke's emotional moment' then I'll know who's to blame."

He laughed quietly. "Your secret is safe with me, Hawke."

"Good." She wondered if he noticed he still held her. "Sebastian...are you trying to test the strength of your resistance to temptation?" She arched a brow at him, waiting for the meaning of her words to sink in. The response came in the flush that blossomed across his neck and face and he moved to withdraw his arms from her.

Quick as lightning, she caught his wrists before he could remove them completely, lifting her eyes to meet his. He would have had to have been blind to miss the desiring looks she'd thrown at him over the last few months. She had certainly noticed his towards her, and it was likely that he was better at hiding such things. But the _thing_ between them had been left unspoken and ignored, both knowing what an impossibility it was.

"A_ true measure of one's character is one's ability to resist temptation."_ Sebastian replied, though his tone was not particularly serious.

"And where was that quoted from?" She teased softly.

He didn't respond; his blazing eyes fixed on her. She pressed the tips of her fingers into the smooth skin at his wrists and felt the pulse flickering there.

"Let me ask you this, Sebastian. Say you were comforting a grieving widow in the Chantry. She had four children to feed and no income. Life was looking dire. Yet, the words of comfort you offered her gave her hope, restored her faith in the Maker. She was so overjoyed that in that moment, her only desire was to show you how much. She throws her arms about your neck and kisses you."

He blinked, the meaning of her words trickling slowly across his mind.

"Would that be considered a sin of yours?"

"Not unless she'd asked me first."

A wily smile spread its way across Hawke's face. "So it would not be considered—"

"—Lady Hawke, I can't - in all good conscience - allow this conversation to continue. The sin would be yours and mine both."

"Yours, too?"

"I know what you plan."

"Oh, do you indeed?"

"I should walk away." Sebastian warned.

"But you won't."

Silence followed.

"I thought not."

"You're going to be the death of me, woman."

"I will not rest until the Maker has struck you down in his fury." She grinned wickedly.

"That...that is not even funny."

She released his wrists at long last and he drew his hands back away from her, setting them - palm down - on the grass.

"I think I'll try and get some more sleep." She declared with a sigh.

"Good idea."

She shifted and he expected her to get to her feet. Instead, she turned back to face him and lunged forwards, crushing her mouth to his. It wasn't the soft, gentle, romantic kiss that she'd always imagined and the force of the sudden, unexpected contact sent him sprawling backwards on the grass, her on top of him.

He tensed beneath her and she caught his face in her hands, angling it just so. It wasn't perfect by any means. His lips as tense and still as his body, but what could she have expected from a stolen kiss like this?

His fingers grasped at her hips with a bite of pain and she took that as a sign to end the act that she had a feeling she would live to regret. Well, she could always blame it on the bump on her head. She hadn't been thinking straight!

With a soft sniff, she made to lean back, only to find his mouth suddenly come alive beneath hers. His lips became soft, pliant and welcoming and they joined together with such belonging that the touch filled her with a desperate yearning. Even as she realised that this stolen kiss was getting out of hand, she was less and less able to break it off. She hungered for him, parting her lips, allowing him to swallow a soft moan as his tongue delved to taste her.

Her fingers lifted up from his face, threading through his hair, pulling him closer still, the swell of her breasts pressed flat against his chest. His pleasured groan sent a thrill straight to her core and, though she wished for nothing more than to follow the kiss through with something more, she became distinctly aware of this..._situation_ she'd gotten them into.

Filled with a sudden desire to catch her breath, she pulled away from him, their lips coming apart with a soft _'pop'_.

His eyes were so bright, the skin of his fine jaw so smooth and warm beneath her fingertips. It took all of her strength to pull completely away from him.

"What was that?" She demanded breathlessly.

"W-what?" He looked suddenly afraid.

"You weren't supposed to _react,_ idiot!" She whacked him playfully on the shoulder, moving back to give him room to sit up. "Now you definitely get to share in the sin."

His face twisted into one of sheer disbelief and guilt.

"I knew you fancied me." Hawke teased him gently. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. You have a secret about me, right? Fair is fair." She stood, running a hand down the linen tunic she wore. "I guess I'll find you praying at the Chantry tomorrow, yes?" It was unkind of her, but she had a feeling he would read through the teasing tone to the hidden emotion within.

"I guess so." He mumbled in response, shifting so he was once again facing the fire.

"Well, goodnight…Sebastian."

"Goodnight, Hawke."

She noted the droop of his shoulders and the teasing smile dropped completely from her face. Yes, maybe she would come to regret her actions but...he probably regretted them more. After all, she had no one to answer to. He did. It was selfish of her – cruel, even – but she could not help the flutter of delight in her chest and belly. Could not help but touch her mouth; still warm and tingling from the contact.

Trust her, she thought silently, to fall for the one man she could never have.

* * *

><p>Fin~<p> 


End file.
